Goodnight Kiss
by SynesthesiaAddict
Summary: Vincent/Aerith  a rare pairing i'd like to see more of  When Vincent awakens, who will remind him that he is still alive?  Still breathing? That he still feels...?
1. Innocense

*This is a pairing I rarely see, and wish I could see more of. I came up with this concept mid-Lamentations and decided to go with it. It's hard to pull a naughty fic off with Aerith cuz she's such a sweety-innocent type… not to mention this is a hetero pair (cuz as sum of u kno, I'm more of a yaoi person…). Well, lets give this a shot…*

*oh yes, the disclaimyness... don't own 'em. check the prof for details*

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter One<br>Innocence

Vincent Valentine was extremely quiet—the kind of quiet that meant speaking was out of necessity, not for idle silence filling. When introduced, he barely deigned a nod towards the AVALANCHE members that were present as Cloud stiffly muttered the name attached to the person he was gesturing to. Slightly muted in his confusion over the cover-up of the fire he had witnessed with his own eyes, he barely said hello himself. He sort of glanced around the inn, wondering where the shade of pastel pink was in the drab colors of the group.

Before he could ask, she came bounding up the steps of the inn, with an armful of purple and white flowers. "Mountain flowers are so peaceful, Cloud, you should—oh hello!" She set her flowers aside and stood next to their leader with a radiant smile, inspecting the newest addition to their party with a warm expression, casting light on the tension the ShinRa mansion basement had cast on the party. "New member?"

"Aerith, this is Vincent—,"

And without permission or even any warning, her small hand reached out and stroked a lock of long black hair. Vincent stiffened, such an advance on his person unexpected and unwelcome. "Oh, I love your hair!"

Anyone who was paying attention seemed to hold their breath. The stranger didn't look like one to mess with, especially with the way the fingers on the arm that wasn't a claw twitched towards a gun under his crimson, tattered cloak. Vincent hadn't even realized that he'd done it. Instead he slowly backed up a step, not comfortable in the slightest with the way his still sluggish body reacted.

"Thank you," he muttered in his retreat. He was even less comfortable with the way she held eye contact. Most couldn't keep it up with him, and let their eyes slide elsewhere as they talked at him. Not Aerith. She didn't seem daunted in the slightest. Even Cloud had jumped at first sight of him. Tifa had let out a yelp, and Vincent had wondered if he even looked human anymore. He was still almost afraid to look. Especially after Cloud told him what year it was.

Thirty years. Thirty damn years. He should be almost sixty. And though there was a lingering stiffness from the coffin and nightmare ridden comatose, he was certainly no invalid, or even feeble in the slightest.

Once he was sure that the currency was still gil, he used his own money to get a room to himself that night. He couldn't share a room—not yet. No one questioned it. No one dared.

Except for the flower girl—Aerith.

His trained ears could hear her knock on three doors before his, and muffled biddings of good night followed each.

"G'night Tifa! G'night Yuffie!"

"Night Aerith."

"Ugh…"

_Knock! _"'Night Cloud! Good night, Barret!"

"Yeah. Night."

"Goddammit woman, why d'yeh do this every damn night!"

"Sweet dreams to you too, Barret ^_^"

_Knock!_ "G'night Cait! Night, Red!"

"Yup!"

"Um… could you do me a favor… could you… get that spot again…"

"Right here?"

"Ahhh…Yeah… thanks so much…"

"Sweet dreams!"

_Knock!_

Vincent held still, stopping the inspection of the only firearm he could find in the basement that was his and in working condition. Most of his old possessions had been discarded by Hojo—yet another reason to hate him…

_Knock! Knock!_

He held his breath, hoping she would just give up and go away. Something about the way she looked strait into his twisted soul made him very uneasy around her.

The door eased open and he cursed himself for not locking it. Aerith peeked in with her smile that caused the dimness of the room to be much less stifling. "Vincent? Hey, I was just—,"

"I heard."

"You speak!" she laughed. "May I…?"

Before he could make up his mind, she was already inside. He got the feeling she did this to everyone else and they had tolerated—even welcomed it. There was just too much to sort out right now though. ShinRa, Hojo, Lucrecia… Sephiroth… He wasn't sure how to make it obvious—as if it wasn't—that he wanted to be alone.

Aerith leaned close, to try and get a good look at his face. Under and up—he was still tall, that much he knew. Even sitting she barely had to bend to get a good view of his withdrawn expression.

"Hey, how come you hide behind all that?" she asked. "Is it 'Phantom of the Opera' or something?"

He found himself wondering if she was trying to be cute or if she was really innocent like that. He wanted to frown, but there was a numbness over his heart that made facial expression difficult. Vincent wanted to be the first to see the damage, not a stranger.

When he didn't answer, she lost her smile. "Oh. You've got so much hate that you can't even tell me to get out. Who did that to you?"

How she could tell made him wish it were darker in the room so he could be invisible; so she wouldn't see how uncomfortable he was. "Hojo," he mumbled, wondering how long she could keep this up. Probably a long time, given her awakeness.

With this Aerith seemed satisfied. She walked around to the other side of the bed, lost in thought perhaps. Vincent kept her in his peripheral.

He was not expecting her to attack his hair again, so he jumped when her fingers started exploring his scalp, searching to remove the cloth around his head.

"What are you…?"

"Let me see—,"

"No—,"

The red head piece fell into his lap, and with only one hand he could only cover his nose and mouth. Aerith's hands were exploring his forehead now; his eyes and ears. Goosebumps erupted with the shiver that spasmed over his skin. It was desire, and it was as achingly wanted as it was shunned.

Her fingers slid down his throat and unclasped the cloak. If she hadn't been so innocent sounding before, he'd be sure that this was a blatant attempt of seduction. As it wasn't, Aerith's hands, once they had achieved their goal, were removed. She came back around to the front of the bed, taking his hand. He allowed her to remove it from his face.

"There, see? You're fine. You're even pretty!" she assured, holding up the mirror she had retrieved from the oak dresser behind them.

The sight wasn't a hideous one, but it was still shocking. Pale. Very pale, and very thin. His hair was incredibly long, and the eyes were red with the curse that Hojo had bestowed. He wasn't even positive of that anymore, thinking that perhaps the lycanthrope had been a part of his nightmares.

No disgusting appendages, no Jenova mutations… he looked human enough. Even… "pretty." At fifty something he hadn't aged a day. Still… how old had he been? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?

His relief must have shown because Aerith's smile returned. "You're hair is even nicer down. Can I brush it?"

"What?" Brush his … hair?

She was already finding a comfortable position behind him and had a brush out from her purse before he could really protest. Words were now hard to piece together, and actions difficult to portray unless on reflex. Only the Turk instincts remained, with Vincent still drowsy and buried.

"Why are you…?" he started, twisting to look at her. It was like she was either teasing him mercilessly or treating him like he was gay, which wasn't entirely true.

Aerith was far too good at reading into people, he decided as she reassured him with a smile. No and no, silly! she seemed to be saying. He couldn't help but to notice how her body made him feel physically. When she started to run the brush through his hair, it made the situation ten times worse. The goosebumps returned with a sweeping chill. It had been a long time since he had been turned on, especially after what Hojo had put him through, but she drew out a deep longing for human contact in his groin as she coaxed and teased his locks into a more manageable mop.

She was speaking—something about the flowers she had found near Mt. Nibel. He wasn't listening to the words—just her voice, which was erotic as it was soothing. He was suddenly very glad he was not facing her—one look at her young, soft body and he would be hard. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her. Why besides the fact she was a part of AVALANCHE and his only hope of getting close enough to Hojo to kill him was beyond him.

It was inevitable, his desire. Her scent was intoxicating him, reminiscent of shampoo and gladiolas and … just her…

"Are you listening?" she was asking. Vincent lifted his head slightly to show that he was… sort of. "Okay," she approved softly. "You know, it's a pity…"

"Hm?"

"You have such a sophisticated soul, but you're so … numb. What did Hojo do to make you hate him so much?"

"Stop screaming for just one fucking second, Valentine!"

A punch to the mouth and the surgical knife continued to slice down the back of his neck. Something clamped down on the nerve, causing his whole body to convulse…

*

"Don't act like you've never been fucked in the ass before!"

*

"Shut up! Siddown!" Cold bony fingers pulling at his hair, something long, hard and disgusting pushed into his mouth…

Vincent shuddered involuntarily as Aerith found that very scar on his neck. "Many things," he finally responded. His muscles twitched against his will as her fingers brushed against whatever Hojo had put there.

Aerith put the brush away quickly, undoubtedly knowing that this territory was off-limits. "It's late," she said. "And Cloud says we have a long hike up Mt. Nibel tomorrow. Take it easy, okay?" She planted a kiss on Vincent's cheek. He tried to stop the blood from rushing to his ears as she exited, turning around for one last smile.

"G'night, Vincent."

"Good night, Aerith."

End Chapter One

*More to come, not sure how long this will be (well obviously I only have till the end of disc 1 to work with… lol)*


	2. HalfRealized

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Two<br>Half-Realized

Aerith was driving Vincent slowly insane in her naïve teasing. Almost every night when she said good night to each member of AVALANCHE personally and individually, Vincent was always last in her rounds. Intentionally it seemed. And she always brushed his hair. He stopped protesting and just concentrated on muffling the way she turned him on, convincing himself with each passing day that as his memory became clearer and darker, he was less and less worthy of staining something as pure and delicate as her with ill-directed lust.

They were in Gongaga Village, restocking their supplies. The newest member of AVALANCHE—Cid Highwind—was buying drinks for all the men, as the women had declined to join. Vincent had as well, but stood on the deck of the run down bar anyway, unable to sleep and listening carefully to his teammates. Being aware was key to staying alive after all.

"That chick… whatsername?"

"Aerith?"

"Yeah. Goddamn, she likes to talk! Botherin' to say g'night and shit and askin' me all sorts of stupid questions…"

Barret laughed. "Take it easy, Cid, she does that ta everyone! Annoyin' as hell, but that's jus' her bein' her…"

"Even to him?"

Cid was gesturing to Vincent, he could tell. Mumbles and shrugs followed.

"I dunno, go ask him!"

Vincent didn't move as Cid approached, leaning a little drunkenly against the wooden railing of the deck. He had a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. "What's up?"

Vincent didn't reply. This was one of those "I dare you" things, and he was slightly annoyed. It was like he was the punch line of some ill-gotten joke and it was mildly degrading. "No thanks," he told Cid as he offered his beer.

"If you weren't gonna drink, then why the hell'd ya come down?"

"Yuffie snores," Vincent told him honestly.

Cid laughed heartily at this—mostly because the beer in his hand was his seventh. "That's fuckin' great, Valentine! Hey, speakin' of chicks, has uh… Aerin—,"

"Aerith," Cloud corrected from the door, approaching.

"Yeah. Yeah, her. She been botherin' you the way she been botherin' us?"

"I wouldn't say bothering," he said carefully, feeling a little cornered. The attention had never been so solely on him before in the week and a half that he had been among the living. Unease crept up on him again.

Cloud took the spot on the other side of Vincent and took another gulp of his drink. "How do you get her to spend so much time with you?" he asked honestly, not as buzzed as Cid.

"You like her, you little shit!" Cid mocked the ex-SOLDIER. Vincent looked to Cloud—who was actually waiting for a real answer.

He straitened to leave. "Grow your hair out," he said dryly with a ghost of a smirk as he made his way for the door.

"Wha…?"

Cid was laughing again. "That guy's a fuckin' riot! Ah… shit, I need another beer…"

***

Despite Cloud's suggestion of saving gil, Vincent slept alone again by his own funds—which had gathered an incredible amount of interest in his absence. As close to sleep as he could get anyway. It eluded him, but strangely his suspended body functioned fine without it.

It was later than normal, but the knock came. Oddly enough, he was first tonight. Aerith let herself in, Vincent's silence more permission now than withdrawal. If he didn't want her to be there, he would have let her know. And god, it was dirty of him, but he did want her there. He awaited her eagerly sometimes, just to be able to have her touch him and speak to him… to acknowledge that he was alive and to tease him with something he just couldn't have…

"It's late, but I don't think the boys will be in for a while," she giggled. The fact that they could hear Cloud laughing out on the deck reiterated this fact. From simply observing, Vincent knew that it took a lot of alcohol to make him do so. It would be a late start tomorrow, which made Vincent shake his head. Turks were fast and accurate in what they did, and would beat them to the chase if they started too late…

Aerith sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him, kicking her feet. "The plants here are crying—I'm not too sure I like it here. It was his hometown after all… must be the Mako…"

Him being her ex he assumed. But that didn't matter because it was none of his business. She hadn't even touched him and already his arousal was kicking up, swelling with need more fierce than before. Not too sure what he was doing, Vincent reached out to touch her hair and pulled the bow out, watching her brunette waves spill down her shoulders and onto her back. It piled on the sheets it was so long.

Aerith looked over her shoulder to him with a smile. "Your turn? Okay. I had a feeling you wanted to…" And she handed him the brush. A little bewildered, Vincent stared at the red handled thing for a moment before he started to tentatively weave it through her hair. It was already thoroughly groomed enough to brush through the top of her head to the bottom of her strands without a single tangle. The smell of gladiolas was so much stronger now, and the way she leaned into him… oh god…

The brush slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her and nestled his face in her hair, breathing in her scent deeply. She sort of tensed in surprise, then shivered as his lips pressed against her neck. He ruined it, he knew he did. She would get angry; push him away; scream…

She didn't. Aerith covered his long bony fingers with her small soft ones, as if to prevent the dress he was clenching so tightly from ripping. Oh, he wanted to rip it off and see her bare and exposed. She didn't even flinch at the sight of the ugly metal appendage touching her—he'd forgotten it was there and was ashamed for a moment, but the fact that she didn't mind it—didn't mind him—was an aphrodisiac in its own respect. With fingers that were quickly getting used to working solo the first button of her dress came undone. He waited for her to show permission to continue, or at least tell him to stop.

Neither came, so after a moment the next button came undone. Then after another moment of nothing but her shaky breath, another button came away, revealing perfect breasts perched high in a bra that was just a little too small…

His common sense shattered, he rolled her over and with a little more effort required than buttons, unsnapped the latch in front, releasing those perfect orbs of flesh from the hold they were in. The little dark nipples came to life under his caresses. Then he realized that she was blushing deeply.

He looked at her, waiting for some denial or resistance. None came. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. As if he could offer any comfort if she wasn't…

"Yeah… just…" He waited for her to give him a reason to stop. The sensible side of him was just praying for her to ask; to put an end to this madness. "You're the first…"

Good lord, a virgin! If there was any reason, there it was. His face dropped to her belly, lips quivering on the hot skin of her stomach. He should have guessed by her behavior. His hard on was begging for a taste now—screaming for it, but his morals were screaming just as loud: not something as innocent as her! She couldn't waste her purity on something as foul and sinful as him, not until his atonement was complete at the very least!

"Vincent… it's… okay," she assured, though she didn't sound very sure in her voice.

He shook his head. "Not me. You shouldn't."

"Just… just a little…" she pleaded unsteadily, sinking her fingers into his hair in a way that sent ripples of those goosebumps over every inch of his body…

Just a little. He didn't have to have sex to make love. "Just a little…" he repeated, more to give himself boundaries than to state hers. He was under the same unreasonable influence as her, so right and wrong blurred and melded. The dress parted for him, and in kissing the hems of her tiny white panties, his senses were overwhelmed in how ready she was. The smell of it, the sight of it right through the layer of clothing that protected it and the anticipation of tasting it… oh god, he was almost glad his will didn't allow him to fuck her; he wouldn't have lasted long at all…

Vincent resolved to leave her underwear on, so not to be tempted. He pushed them aside and nearly lost said resolve upon seeing her shy little pussy, slick wit her want and the clitoris swollen with arousal.

He introduced a finger very slowly and reveled in the gasp it produced. She was so tight he could barely fit another finger in. She moaned as he gave gentle thrusts with them. The barrier he encountered when he pushed deep confirmed her words. Never seen; never touched. He was going to hell, no doubt, but her pants of his name may well be worth it…

He gave a lick to that nub above the opening of her sex and she nearly shrieked. He nearly lost to temptations with the taste of it. He devoured her completely, putting a hard fast pressure on her clitoris, causing her to shake in pleasure.

"Oh, oh god, Vincent!" she praised, almost pulling his hair in delight. She came in a fluttery, pulsating fury. He drank what she gave eagerly.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to bury himself within her. Especially when she pulled him up and kissed his lips frantically, red in the face her orgasm had been so intense. Her lips were soft, sweet and so delicious..

"Vincent, please!" she begged under him, her ankles squirming against his in a maddening way.

"No."

"Please!"

"I can't."

"You won't."

She was looking him hard in the eye, and he had to swallow to remember why he was saying no. "You're right. I won't."

"Why?"

Because he had made the same mistake before. Because he was her opposite. Because he didn't deserve it. Because his heart was just too heavy to handle any more. Because she deserved so much better than him for her first…

"It can't be me," he said simply. It literally hurt to refuse her—his hard on was begging for attention. He wished he knew what she was thinking as her expression softened in acceptance.

"Okay," she finally agreed.

Neither of them agreed on her staying there, but that's the way it worked out. She laid on his chest for a long time after they got mildly comfortable (to continue a muted conversation perhaps?). She was thinking deeply, or just listening to breaths and heartbeats as he'd drifted off. It was a wordless and unintentional arrangement, but there she was, curled up between him and covers, warm and fragile thing that she was.

Fragile, but unbroken. He was determined to keep it that way.

End Chapter Two

Will he? Won't he? Not too sure on that myself! ^_^


	3. Temptation

_A/N: apparently someone has written a sequel to this story somewhere out there. as the original author of this fic, i neither wrote nor authorized a sequel. on a lighter note, thank you for the love so far, reviews inspire me to write! PEASH! ~syn_

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Three<br>Temptation

So it was no dream. He was a demon.

Ambushed by monsters half-way back to the Tiny Bronco, Vincent was cracked hard in the head, right on that nerve. Unable to send commands to his body, his knees had buckled and the ground came rushing up to greet him. A sickness… a cold grip on his heart and that pins-and-needles feeling all over…

He had changed into something terrifying in front of not only Cloud, but Aerith as well. That bothered him. The fact that he had taken a back seat from his own senses and actions to savagely maul their attackers made him worry deeply for his companion's safety.

He wondered if that concern would have half as intense if Aerith were not present.

He was lying on his back on a sleeping bag, staring at the stars and listening to the others from a ways off near the campfire. In addition to a lack of need for sleep, warmth did little for him. He might as well have been dead. He would have believed so if it weren't for her…

"The weapon seller I heard about in Gongaga sounds interesting," Cloud was saying. "You think he might have seen Sephiroth?"

"Maybe…" Tifa sounded like she was shrugging.

"We should go ask him!" Aerith suggested this. Vincent had memorized the tones of her voice so well already…

"Who the hell cares! Les' jus' get on wit' it…"

"Hey, brat—get the hell off my plane!"

"It's broken! It's not like I'm hurting it!"

"Ya lousy kid, am-fuckin-scray! … … I'm SERIOUS, get the fuck away from the Bronco unless I say you can get near it!"

Yuffie squawked as Cid chased her away from his pride and joy. That's the way it sounded anyway. Slowly, the conversations died away to whispers, then even that started to drift away.

"G'night, Cloud."

"Mmhm…"

Aerith got similar responses from everyone else. Vincent was so far out from the fire he wondered if she would bother tonight. Of course she did. He braced himself for temptation.

"Hey," she said, crouching next to him. Her head was tilted with a smile. "Mr. Lone Ranger. Why out here?"

So his demons wouldn't put anyone in danger. No, that wasn't right… so she wasn't in danger. If it weren't for her, he doubted he's still be here. Maybe he would have marched strait back to ShinRa and rip Hojo to pieces with the very curse he had bestowed. But then it would be foolish to do so alone…

Vincent ended up shrugging. She probably knew.

He was right. "You're not a monster, Vincent. And you're not dead to the world either," she assured. "You're heart is gentler than you think."

"How do you…?" he half-asked, wondering how to phrase it. She waited for him to put it into words. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know exactly what everyone is thinking."

Aerith laughed softly. "Well I'm no mind-reader, but I guess you could say I feel certain things. Kind of like how I feel the Promised Land."

Vincent sat up and looked at her. A remnant of Lucrecia in the way her eyes glowed and the way her body moved. The memory of her writhing beneath his touches made him shiver again. He wondered constantly if that would continue, even though by all rights it shouldn't. Recently they all had been far too busy for her goodnights… in fact this was the first peaceful night they'd all had in a few days.

"Who is she?"

"Hm?"

"The woman you dream about?"

Vincent shifted uncomfortably and turned away a little. It was like she was peeling away his privacy. It was unsettling in most respects, but in others, sinfully exciting. "No one important."

Her fingers caressed his hair again. The hairs everywhere else stood on end as she did so. "Honestly, would you do more than a quick comb if it weren't for me?"

He'd almost forgotten what she was talking about until she started to brush out tiny, forgotten and invisible knots in his hair. Every pore on the top of his head lit up with sensation suddenly, and just her removing the headpiece was starting to turn him on.

"Stop," he ordered, firmly reminding himself of her innocence and how it should stay intact.

"Are you okay?"

You know what this does to me… "You tempt me again."

Aerith sort of wavered in realization. "Oh… is that why before…?"

"Yes."

It was as hard to admit as it was to deny her. But he folded up his intense desire and tucked it away.

She blushed. "Well… I've been sort of thinking about it…" she confessed. "It's kind of hard not to, you know?"

Trust me, I know… He nodded, then sighed. "We don't belong with each other."

"I 'belong' to someone else? Is that what you think?"

"Cloud, if anyone." If he'd get his head out of his ass…

Aerith leaned against his back and looked up to the stars with him. She was blushing again. "Is it that obvious?"

Her arm resting gently on his back; the way her cheeks filled with color almost childishly… oh god… "It doesn't take a Turk to notice," he told her. It was much easier to speak his mind around her, mostly because it only took a few words for her to pick up his thoughts. Not that he could think very coherently around her anyway…

Aerith shook her head. "He's not interested." There was an uncertainty in that statement that dashed Vincent's tiny little hope. The way her hands rested around his abdomen though, and her breath on his neck… she was so willing before and she had been thinking about him. Her presence was starting to take an inevitable effect…

Aerith must have felt him shiver again. "I'm sorry. Tell me to go away and I will."

She was giving him a chance to back out now. What irony, but a blessed chance to end this blasphemy. But try as he might, he couldn't bring to words into existence; he couldn't send her away. The campfire held no warmth for him, but her warmth made his body melt into an unresponsive puddle, completely and willingly under her control.

"I can't," he admitted. Who else would he have shown his weaknesses to? Lucrecia had only seen an inkling of it all… he was in far too deep now. Though fairly confident he could trust her, the Turk in him tsked in shame.

"I understand," she said, rising to leave. His hand reached and lingered on her dress, torn. Aerith hesitated, then leaned down to give him a sort of goodnight kiss. He meant to turn away, but she aimed off in the dark while he shifted the wrong way. Their lips caught each other and both of them lost all intentions of parting.

Nothing else in the world now mattered but the way their tongues intermingled. She came into him, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop her. He nibbled on the sensitive skin of her neck and was burning with the way his body wanted her, just from her shy little gasps and her nails unintentionally finding nerves on his scalp.

Vincent wanted to laugh at the foolishness of it—making out in the dark like a couple of sneaky teenagers. Why, oh why did he let her do this to him? His hands were already moving into position without his knowledge, hesitantly asking—

He suddenly stopped—that's when he realized what he was doing—when Aerith put a firm grip on his hard on. He tensed, sucking air in very slowly. What could she know about pleasuring a man? Of course his body was crying, "yes, yes, YES!" That other piece of him was a whisp of a reminder: She is pure. Innocent. Virgin. Don't dirty her…

"You haven't…?"

"No."

"Then don't." Masochist's words, those.

"Don't worry so much about me," she told him, and released his cock from the hold his pants had on it. Hot and cold most certainly were still felt, and the contrast of the night air and her hand made him bite down a moan. Mustn't wake the others…

Her mouth was a sweet blessing. Obviously amateur, she could only take in half of his length, but it didn't matter in the slightest. She had no problems feeling out each little pleasure zone, exploring each vein with her curious tongue. Down and in, to the back of her tongue and out again. Delicious friction… She came up to the very head of it, manipulating that spot just under the slit…

"Easy…" he gasped, both as an instruction and a warning. More of a warning. Too much longer on that spot… "Aerith…" he moaned. He was going to…

And he did, for the first time in ages. He came hard and was bathed in that all-consuming, toe-curling pleasure for a few heavenly seconds. He wasn't sure if he had made any sound or not, his head was so caught up in it.

Then he sat up and immediately put his focus back on Aerith. She had her mouth covered in recovery. "I'm sorry…" he apologized.

Her smile was a soft one. Not her usual grin, but still warm. "Why are you sorry?"

Millions of reasons. He really was a monster for allowing himself to drag her into this… He closed up his clothing and laid back. "I shouldn't have."

Her arm was over his chest and had found the most wonderfully comfortable position within seconds. "Don't be ridiculous." There was a small silence. "You know… you struck me as more of a briefs kinda guy."

She didn't strike him as the kind of girl who would notice. She brought up the weirdest things at the strangest times… another charm of hers, he supposed. Oh, he was way in over his head already—now he was starting to really like her. Not just her presence, but her.

What in god's name had he gotten himself into?

End Chapter Three  
>*************************************<p> 


	4. Broken Promise

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Four<br>Broken Promise

Vincent endured the Golden Saucer with a reserved patience. The last time he's been here it had just been a casino without the park or flashy attractions. He also had to cover a lot of money for one of his fellow Turks for losing so much. No fond memories here either.

Aerith latched onto his arm with a gasp as Cloud was struck hard in the chest in the battle arena, then cheered with the others as he countered, not phased in the slightest. What a stupid contest for a lousy keystone. Walden Dio would never have done such a thing, but his son was a regular nut job, and Vincent merely sat back and allowed Cloud to make a fool of himself.

What was worse, the tram was broken when all was said and done. At least Cait Sith had the sense to get him his own room as they were forced to stay in the ghost hotel. It was almost expected now. He had shared once with Cid only because the inn was booked full. He was an interesting enough man when awake, but asleep his snores could register on the rictor scale. Never, ever again.

Cloud had tried his best to explain what had happened so far, but Vincent decided that he wasn't very good at it. He nudged Cid halfway through everyone talking over each other in hopes of a joint escape. "Lets get out of here…" he muttered to the pilot. Cid however, had fallen asleep in his chair. Vincent left him, mildly amused. It gave him an excuse not to drink with him anyway—in which Cid's pestering had been more and more persistent.

Unfortunately that left him a good deal of the night with nothing to fill his time. He had forced his eyes not to follow Aerith's hips up the stairs as she had hurried off. No sense in giving his longing for her body agonizing fuel. Every time it got a little further out of hand. Every time he had to turn her away, and it was ripping him apart.

No better at all when the knock came. Not to sure what to expect (though he was fairly sure of who it was), he cracked the door open first. There she was.

"Hey," Aerith said sort of shyly. "I was thinking that since we're here, you know, we could go see the sights."

Vincent allowed himself a small smile at the laughable notion. Him. Go on rides. "Not my thing."

Aerith pushed the door open a little bit, but no further than Vincent would allow, about halfway. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Can I come in?"

Vincent gritted his teeth, the bare wisp of a smile he had gone. He was afraid of this. "You know very well what would happen."

Aerith sort of looked at her toes awkwardly. "I guess… well, you're such a nice guy! I like being with you, you know?"

For her sake. "No."

There was eye contact and a tense silence. "You think I should thank you, huh?"

"When you see it my way. And you may never see it that way. I apologize if that seems cold."

"I do, don't apologize." She smiled. "Thank you. You might be right." No kiss, just a little wave and the barest touch to his hand. He closed the door, heart pounding. It was for her own good. For his own good. The right decisions sometimes came at a tough price however, and Vincent was paying it dearly. His stomach clenched when he heard a knock a room over.

"A D-A-T-E! Or haven't you ever been on one?"

Vincent found himself frowning, but shook the notion off. Cloud should be her first—and only. Their tryst would not continue, as it should be. They shouldn't have gone as far as they had. She was Cloud's. End of story.

He undressed and lay in his bed, motionless and sleepless.

*

Vincent was just drifting into his half-sleep after what could have been hours of mulling over both terrifying and unclear memory when there was a sharp knock and the door whipped open. He started awake, instinctually reaching for the shotgun on the floor next to his bed.

"Vincent?"

His eyes focused in the dark on the figure in the doorway and recognized Aerith immediately. Noting the troubled tone in her voice, he decided to sit up and acknowledge her. Had Cloud broken her heart? Had her frailty shattered?

Her first few steps were hesitant, but then she rushed into him, trailing tears in her wake. A sob broke out of her and into his chest as she threw her arms over him. Unsure why he was suddenly her solace, he quietly accepted her tears, tentatively resting his hand in the small of her back. She would speak when she was ready, so there was no point in asking.

"Cait Sith is a spy," she cried after a second of composure gathering. "Marlene is a hostage!"

Marlene… oh yes, Barret's adopted child. ShinRa in their midst… of course. Cait always did seem fake in his happy nature, the real him collected cautiously behind the stuffed body he paraded around in. He was a Turk controlled toy. Most definitely a Turk, Vincent decided as Aerith told him everything.

There was a moment of quiet as Vincent chewed on which question in his head to put together. "And yet… you come here. To me." And not to Cloud. Or anyone else for that matter…

She had an uncanny way of knowing what he was thinking, despite her rejection of the title 'mind-reader.' "Cloud… has too much baggage for me," Aerith whispered into his chest. "It makes me so sad… but only he can change himself."

It broke what was little of Vincent's heart to hear her cry over the fool. Rejection was a sharp knife to be thrust into, even for the brightest soul. Why anyone—even an idiot like Cloud—would turn down this beautiful angel baffled him. At least he had an excuse. If only she could be his…

Vincent was still too tentative to kiss her tears away, though by now such advances were no matter of uncertainty for wanting them. But he did follow each little path on her face with his finger, like with a single motion he could reverse the damage. Tracing pain that was deeper than just Cloud or ShinRa.

He shuddered as her body made his react in a seemingly now natural way. Now was not the time—she was in pain. He learned his lesson in women—sex is no balm for heartbreak. Aerith had closed her eyes at this point in his exploration of her face. He wasn't sure if it was trust or expectancy. Within a few seconds neither were an issue; their lips were in a familiar captivity with one another and their tongues were seeking each other out.

Just a half-innocent kiss could set him ablaze, and his self-denial did nothing to help the matter. He couldn't stop his hand from wandering—gradually, like he always did so she could have the chance to say no—down her chest and sliding between fabric and hot, soft flesh…

Her motions welcomed him—they fit together like puzzle pieces no matter how she arched now. The way her head fell back on his shoulder so he could kiss the sensitive nerves there; the way her meek little ass fell just short of rubbing against his desire; the way their legs automatically shifted so their ankles were intertwined…

It was so easy to lose himself in her that he didn't realize that they were stripping each other. He didn't know they were both naked until after a maddening amount of foreplay Aerith rolled him over and did those things with her mouth upon his member that she had only just become accustomed to. It made him quiver with the erotic pleasure of it all. She remembered where all those spots were after just one forbidden taste and exactly how to make him squirm. His cock was swallowed with ever more vigor; she wanted it, god she wanted him to give it to her…

She was kissing him and so help him god, he was kissing her back, bare and ready against him, hot and wet against the tip of his cock, ready to dive into a world of dark and secret pleasure…

Vincent jumped and pushed her off, terrified at what he almost did. "No…!" he managed, sitting up and turning away.

Aerith's hands and face were leaning into his back, literally buzzing from the sexual static between them. That half realized notion and unintentional seduction had cascaded into something downright dirty, and he couldn't do it.

"Why can't it be you?" she asked quietly. "I've got no one else and neither do you. You have nothing to feel guilty over."

"You're judgment is not sound," he told her, getting up and making his way to the bathroom. Cold shower—that's what he needed, and badly. He was refusing her to protect her! Why couldn't she accept it?

Her hand suddenly gripped his on the cold nozzle. Startled at her presence (and annoyed that he was upset enough not to take note of his environment), he could do little to stop her from guiding his hand back over to the hot nozzle and twisting it.

She knew. Goddammit, that vixen knew he was on his last legs of denying her and was actively seeking to break his will at this point. "Aerith…" he said through his teeth, simply pleading for her to end her game; to let him atone properly.

"In," she ordered playfully, pushing him into the tub. His resolve almost torn to pieces, he stumbled in and watched in agony as she followed and turned to adjust the temperature The water was making her skin slick and lubricated gave his might another sledge hammer blow. God he wanted to take her, and his common sense was losing to this notion fast.

She had something in her hand… hotel shampoo. She wasn't…

Mother of Christ she was. She had to reach a ways up to his head, but she was lathering soap into his hair. This was far, far worse than simply brushing his hair. Her fingers were tickling his follicles. She was wet and naked and facing him so he could see each jiggle of her breasts the motion of her arms were causing. The tip of his highly erect cock was resting above her belly button, giving a tantalizing friction with every move of her body.

"God, why do you do this?" he asked shakily. Unsure what to do with his arms, he kept his hand(s) locked on her hips as if they were dancing, using the equator rule: not too far south, not too far north. The landmarks of either taunted him though, begging to be touched or fucked…

"Vincent, I turned down Cloud for you," she told him, holding his gaze. His shock must have shown. "Is it so hard to believe?"

Yes, yes it was. The object of her affection set aside for him? Mind-blowing! What had he done to ruin her chance at real love? What a beast he was!

"Vincent," she said into his lips, just above a whisper. "My judgment is sound. I want you. You. No one else."

Aerith pressed into him, giving him the ultimate permission. Not just lust-hazed consent. Real permission to take her.

He half moaned, half laughed some comment about going to hell as the wall came crashing down after all the cracks and crumbles she had thrown at it. Kissing her deeply, he gently pushed her against the tile wall, giving her plenty of time to back out. He lifted her weight easily, spreading her thighs to see that she was ready—oh so ready.

No second thoughts. Just her flushed face asking—waiting. His cock was at her entrance; she seemed to be holding her breath. Tightly, but easily for the first few inches. Even that could have made him come if she asked.

Aerith tensed. "Please…"

Vincent pulled back and drove in, taking her maidenhead in one blow. He cringed as Aerith stifled a yelp, for a spit-second all his doubts rearing up and the repercussions of such an act swirling about. But the pure pleasure of being inside a woman—not just any woman, but Aerith!—made them fall away with the rest of his defenses as she let out an elating moan.

He joined her as her started to thrust, his cock now reaching untouched territory that was itching to be awakened. Within minutes they both danced the frantic motions of approaching orgasm. He didn't have to work hard to make her come. She squirmed and bucked between him and the wall she was pressed against, crying his name as the sweet friction of him scouring out the inside of her sent them both over the edge.

He came with a deep exhale as Aerith threw her head back in a soundless cry. And then there was just the sound of breathing under the whine of the shower. Tingling nerves and hot steam. Cheap shampoo and sex. He held her there for a moment, with his chin on her shoulder, slumped in defeat.

"I'm sorry…" he breathed. So, so sorry that he'd given in… but at the same time overjoyed—or as close to it as he could be. Would this go on? Would this be a blissful escape? Would he be bold enough to be her—what a ridiculous idea—"significant other?"

Aerith lowered her feet, removing him from her sex in the motion. She savored the embrace and held him tight, her oversensitive skin basking in the heat and the water and even how harsh his claw was on her back compared to his hand.

"Don't be."

End Chapter Four

The sin has been committed! But! We are not finished!


	5. The Reason

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Five<br>The Reason

It had been a long time since Vincent had felt angry or allowed himself to be furious with anyone or anything but Hojo. Wutai and all the memories it brought didn't hit him until much, much later that night, after this wild goose-chase for their Materia was long over.

He was so annoyed by the delay that when they at last cornered Yuffie, she happened to stumble face first into the wrong guy. He plucked her up by the nape of her neck with his claw, no gentleness intended. He threw the kicking child at Cloud's feet, satisfied with the terror her wide eyes gave him. Never had he given contact to another group member—as far as they knew anyway—and oh what he would have given to snap her neck for her thieving! It must have shown.

Cloud seemed to take seeing some of the Turks as a sign that they could slow down and keep the chase up (for a second time!), but Vincent knew better. If not Reno, then someone else would be on the job with the Keystone. They were wasting valuable time.

All being said and done—Materia returned and Turks satisfied—Cloud again made a lousy decision. They would stay here tonight and leave early. It irritated Vincent's focus to no end. And yet… another piece of him celebrated. A piece he thought long dead.

Another night with Aerith. Another escape; another wonderful interlude to give him so peace of mind and pleasure of body, if only for just a few satisfying hours. What a fool he was becoming. She might not even want to continue… she might have guessed at her mistake in wallowing in his taint.

This conflict in his head lead predictably to alcohol, if only for now. That was his first mistake. There was only one bar in Wutai, and none other than Reno and Rude were still there, causing a ruckus. Not even Cid had the balls to go drink in the same establishment as their enemies, vacation or no.

"Fucker got what was comin' to him!" Reno was laughing, doing what looked like an impression of Corneo plummeting from the Dao Cho. Given the bored expression on Rude's face, it probably wasn't the first charade he'd played out for that day.

Right after Vincent's first drink, Reno nudged his partner. "Yo! Lookie who we have here!" He jumped into the stool next to Vincent with a big, drunken grin. Great. Just great. Right what he needed—another idiot to deal with. "I'll have what he's having!"

The bartender looked annoyed. "Turks…" she muttered under her breath as she began mixing. Vincent decided not to take offense. He was an ex-Turk, after all.

"Only you today, hm Valentine?" Reno asked, clearly smashed. They must not have stopped drinking since Elena had been returned, which had been late afternoon. It was almost nine. "Where's that spikey-headed leader a yours? Or that obnoxious pilot? He likes to drink, don't he?"

Vincent shrugged as the second round arrived.

"Martini guy, huh?" Reno laughed, downing his like a shot. "I'm a James Bond fan myself…" His eyes followed Vincent's fingers, which removed the olive garnish very efficiently without any help from what would have been the other hand. "Dude, that is so cool! How do you do that? Hojo fucked up your arm, right? The experiments, right?"

Vincent hesitated. Of course he knew—he had access to ShinRa's files. He cleared his throat as in indication that it wasn't something he wished to discuss, least of all with Reno.

"So c'mon, man—lemme see it," Reno was pestering. "Prosthetic limbs are so cool these days…"

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Vincent told him point blank.

Though the hint was dropped right into his lap, Reno didn't register it. Or he chose not to. He was too wasted for Vincent to tell. "Heh, you're a pretty funny guy! Hey! Another drink for the clown here!"

Vincent drummed his fingers, his patience running thin.

"Hey man, why the frown?"

"You're drunk…" he sighed.

"Yeah? You're sexy!"

So much for a peaceful drink. Reno didn't strike him as gay or bi, but it was clearly an offer at this point. If things were different—if he weren't in such a bitter mood, if it weren't for her … he might have considered accepting, but as it was…

"Not interested."

"Hey, you know who else is sexy? That Ancient—the chick in pink."

Vincent's claw tensed, curling into a fist.

"Man, I would bang her all night! Is Cloud her boyfriend or something? 'Cause if she's available, oh shit would I fuck her… dude…" Reno stifled a hiccup. "Vince…would you ask her out for me or something?"

The claw came about and caught Reno hard in the jaw. He went flying and landed hard in a pile of chairs and broken glass. "Bastard!" he slurred, leaping up with startling nimbleness given the amount of alcohol in his scrawny body.

Ignoring the blood running down his face, Reno had his rod out and swinging. Vincent caught it in the claw, grateful for it for not the first time in a rare instance. The charge died in it, giving Reno second thoughts. Vincent twirled it out of Reno's hands, knocking him back. Simultaneously his .45 was out and pointed at Rude, who now thought better of jumping in.

Most of the patrons had fled and the poor bartender was hiding under the counter. What was the point of calling the police if the Turks couldn't handle it? Besides… reporting a Turk meant certain doom, even this far from Midgar.

Vincent put the gun back in its holster and threw the rod back at Reno. He straitened and left, momentarily satisfied.

What in the world had come over him?

***

Vincent made his way back to his room and found the door cracked open slightly. Not taking any chances, the .45 was out again as he slowly entered, finding a good cluster of shadows to cling to. In the silence he strained his hypersensitive ears. The hum of some random dormant appliance. A slight breeze outside, coaxing wind chimes to sing. Slow and deep breath and the slight shuffle of sheets…

He approached the bed and relaxed. Yes, someone had slipped into his room. It was Aerith. And she had fallen asleep waiting for him.

Even in the darkness his eyes found every strand of hair, every curve of her body and even the way her eyelashes fluttered to be attractive. And she was here. For him. It was no false hope of his and it both bothered and excited him.

Vincent unequipped, taking off his holster as quietly as he could for fear of waking her. Despite his efforts, he knew she was waking up before she did, so he paused to watch her stretch, give a little yawn or moan and absorb the fact that he was standing there when she opened her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Almost ten."

"You're early…"

"You were expecting me, I see."

Aerith smiled and sat up, reaching to play with some stray hair as he uncloaked. "I guess I just missed you."

Missed him. Odd girl. Shirtless now, he began to un-strap his boots. He was distracted by the brush that started to run through his hair again, slowing his progress dramatically given the goosebumps that ran all the way to his fingers. The familiar, soothing rhythm was almost habit now, and its result was predictable. Vincent shifted and struggled with the boot as his pants became a lot tighter.

"Aerith," he interrupted softly.

"Hm?"

He took her hand and turned, one foot finally free. "Why?" he asked, looking her in the eye without flinching or searching for something else to focus on. He didn't need to elaborate—there was no doubt in his mind that she knew what he was talking about.

She stared right back as she gathered an answer. It was like she was searching him for one, as if he could know already. Intuition was one thing though. Borderline psychic empathy was completely another.

"You made me feel… wanted," she finally said.

"Wanted?" he repeated, almost dubiously. Every member of AVALANCHE—even the bratty Yuffie—would bend over backwards for her. She had a knack for handling curative Materia, but it was no special feat. If no one wanted her around, she wouldn't be there.

"You misunderstand," she insisted. "It's one thing to be admired, befriended or cared about. It's not the same as being held at night when you're all alone…"

"Alone?" Stop acting like a parrot…

"You're all with me… but…" she picked some combined hair out of the brush in her struggle to explain it. "I'm the only Ancient. No one else hears the Planet scream like I do. It's difficult to bear.

"I… I remember I used to cry as a kid because it was so loud and sad. But someone I sold flowers to said to me one day, 'Kid, I love seeing you every day in this church. You're smile makes life worth living.' So I decided to smile, no matter what. It was like if I could make that much of a difference in one person's life just by smiling, I could keep doing it."

"At your own expense," Vincent added.

Aerith smiled again, a little sadly this time. "I guess so. But you didn't fall for it. I knew you didn't when you shied away from me. When you let me brush your hair, without a word you told me that you understood the meaning of façade and good intention. When you desired me…" Aerith wrapped her arms around him. "You told me that I was me. I was a person—not just a smile. And the fact that you wanted me, not the happy, innocent girl I was—made me want you. Does that make sense?"

Vincent wrenched the other boot away and laid back on the bed, pulling her into him. "Perfect sense." No resistance, no shyness. She was even bold and hasty in the rush to get out of her clothes. He wanted to slow her down, but her need it seemed was greater than his—which was eager enough as it was.

Her words had lightened his guilt perhaps, but had not eliminated it. What was left however was thrown aside with her clothing as he fumbled in the dark for flesh and sweet desire…

Fast and hard was what she was signaling she wanted and that was exactly how she came as he ravished every inch of her sex. Her arms trembled with her own weight leaning on the headboard as beneath her Vincent explored in, out and around her pussy with an aching but eager tongue. He locked her legs over his shoulders with his arms as he stimulated her clitoris, giving her all the incentive in the world to moan, squeal and squirm.

Deeming her extremely ready, he lifted her up as he sat up and positioned her to impale. A fast glance between hard breath and quaking limbs for that permission, then down she came, bringing all the promise of orgasm with the warm, slick walls of her sex closing in on his member. It made his aching jaw and sweaty muscles more than worth the trouble just to be able to fuck her almost savagely at the pace she was racing at.

Just watching her be so willing to dominate him made him want to come very badly. She was biting her lip as the blood rushed to her face, clenching her fists and squeezing her eyes shut. Oh, she was working so hard to achieve it and he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He held on for the ride, thrusting hard into her and trying not to give in so she could get to that orgasm she was laboring to reach.

When he placed his thumb over her clit to help her along, it did the trick. Her savagery tripled—which was as shocking to see as it was hot. Her nails dug into him and she literally screamed as she came. He let it all go, seeing stars in his blessed release. In the dim delirium of pleasure that washed over him, Vincent wasn't sure if they had drifted into a slumberish state afterwards or not. Only that his thigh was very uncomfortable when his senses re-oriented themselves.

He decided that if Cloud was stupid enough to turn her down, that he couldn't have her. Vincent doubted the blond could handle all that pent up sexual frustration that even she didn't know she had. He would tell her when she woke. He would lay everything on the table and let her decide her own truth. She deserved no less.

Vincent gingerly moved Aerith to a more comfortable position and sighed to himself. Rejection was no stranger to him, and he braced himself for it. He would deserve it for being such a fool. But no sense in being dishonest.

It was up to her now.

End Chapter Five

*hehe, yes that was a family guy reference back there. If Vincent were a FG character, he would definitely be Brian. Once again, sorry for the delay and all reviews (good and bad) are welcomed and appreciated! ^_^*


	6. Premonitions

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Six<br>Premonitions

He couldn't tell her.

Not in the way he wanted to anyway.

Aerith was awake early, and since Vincent had at last reached a state of semi-unconsciousness, he wasn't aware he was having a nightmare until he started awake and found her missing. His wits scattered, not having had a nightmare since waking from the coffin, he tried to sort out what had been a dream and what had actually occurred.

It was still early. So early that the only light was a dim but promising blue-gray from the window. Aerith's silhouette sat on the sill, bright eyes turned away towards the mountains, waiting for the dawn.

That's right. Just a dream.

She turned and smiled as Vincent affirmed that reality indeed was in place as he caught his breath, shaking off the sensation of both sleep and terror. "You had a nightmare too?" she asked quietly.

One full of laughing demons and white lab coats with blood… oh so much blood—

Aerith had nightmares?

Vincent pulled himself out of bed and without realizing it, slipped his arms around her waist as he stood comfortingly behind her, trying to see what she was seeing over the horizon. It was a personal gesture—one not meant to be sexual at all. It was easy around her suddenly. "Tell me," he said.

"If you promise not to apologize," she replied with a weak smile.

His lips twitched in an almost-smile in response. "I promise," he agreed.

Aerith lost her smile. "I dreamed I died." She paused, as if considering parts of her dream, then continued. "It was a beautiful city. I'm doing the Planet's bidding… and then I…"

Vincent squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Sephiroth…" she whispered.

Vincent absorbed her shudder and did his best to act as a shield from sleep-kissed horrors. He'd known well enough about them—this was a dream that felt so real that is was hard to tell if you were awake or not. "It was just a dream," he assured, biting down an automatic apology. He had contaminated her with his body and now his nightmares… what a monster, what a beast…

"No. It wasn't," Aerith whispered in that same frightened tone. "It's something I'm going to have to do."

"Nonsense."

"Please believe me!" she pleaded. "And let me apologize to you! If I had known that this was what the Planet wanted me to do, then I would have never…!" Her voice cracked as she started to choke on her tears. "You… and me… I would have never… I'm so sorry! Your heart's had enough and I just… stepped all over it again!"

"No more," he told her, wiping her tears. She really thought she was going to die… and truly felt remorse for him being alone afterwards!

"Believe me, Vincent!" she repeated ferverantly, weaving her body around his. "I'm going to have to leave you all and that's what hurts the most! I love you all… especially you!"

She was absolutely convinced. Nothing he could say or do would change her mind. So much that even he was starting to become uncomfortable with the notion of never seeing her again. He didn't consider even half-believing her and he was alarmed.

"Then… let's forget Sephiroth," he suggested, a wild idea forming. "Let's leave."

"Right now?"

"Right now. And we'll never look back."

Like going AWOL.

Vincent are you insane?

Lucrecia, I'm serious! You and I. We'll go anywhere! Costa de Sol… Mideel… you name it, we'll go there. Enough of this experimentation! It's not right! It's not human!

"I have an obligation…"

Vincent did a double-take at Aerith. Lucrecia's exact words. It was painful, as he expected, but not so much for being rejected, but for that it was the same reason as before. He always picked the noble ones—the martyrs… the people that never thought for themselves…

"I'm so sorry we can't be together like that…" Aerith sighed. "I would give anything if we could…"

Which was why love was as foolish as it was thirty years ago. He kissed her as if it were his last with her, heart aching. His inner Turk tsked again. C'est la vie…

"Aerith, are you awake?"

The door swung open and in stepped Tifa, wearing nothing but her Zanarkand Abes jersey. Reasons why she was looking here for Aerith swirled in Vincent's head. Maybe she couldn't find her best friend in any other room; maybe she saw her stealing away here last night; maybe it was pure chance…

It must have been cold water to the brain to see the sight she saw—Aerith pressed against the window by none other than Vincent, lips locked and bodies near-melded and aroused. It was almost comic to see the shock overcome her face mid-sentence.

"Do you have myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyoooooookay, I guess you don't! Catch you later!" Tifa spun for a 180, leaving exactly the way she came in.

For a moment there were only two pounding hearts and unsteady breath. Aerith bit her lip. "Well. That didn't go very well… Vincent are you blushing!"

And just like that her premonition was tucked aside, temporarily forgotten as Vincent tried to deny his embarrassment at being caught not only making out like a horny frat-boy, but in his boxers by Tifa. No one could have guessed Aerith's dark dreams as she teased and giggled.

"You ARE!"

"You're mistaken…"

"Come BACK here! That's adorable!"

"Come on…" he slipped to the other side of the bed, covering his warm face with his hand. Oh god… awkward…

Aerith pounced on him, tugging at his fingers playfully. "Let me see!"

"No!"

"You never show your sensitive side! Come on!"

"Don't have one," he denied, a strange feeling coming over his jaw. The numbness in his soul started to stir and lift with the urge to just giggle like a school girl. It was the start of a grin. She was trying very hard to make him laugh.

Her attempts to reveal his face failed, her fingers darted to his armpits. A half-laugh, half-squawk ensued from him as his arms snapped to his sides in reflex from her tickling. She threw him down on the sheets and pinned his arms, success her at last. He could have easily thrown her off, but he didn't want to hurt her, so she was granted with full view of his face, ever so slightly pink and endowed with an out of breath grin, silent huffs of laughter for her eyes and her eyes alone to cherish. "Gotcha!" she laughed.

"Got me," he admitted, mentally sighing at himself for liking her so goddamned much.

"You have really nice teeth! You should smile more often!"

"Wha…?"

Aerith interrupted Vincent's questioning of her strange observations with a rough kiss. He was suddenly very aware of what their fooling around had done to his body. He pulled her in and pressed her against his erection.

Dawn finally broke, spilling light onto Aerith as he removed her undergarments. It was a glorious thing to be able to see every detail of their love-making. There was a sort of clarity in the room so noticing every charm about her was no difficult task. The birthmark on the inside of her thigh. The smell of the soap she used on her skin. The sound of her pounding heart and the fact that he could feel the quiver of it against his chest. And the pinnacle of their union—the feel of her burning wet quim swallowing and releasing his member over and over again… top, bottom, floor! and not caring, not missing a beat…

"Oh god!" he actually cried when he came. Then he let his head hit the floor, at last aware that they had rolled right out of bed. It explained his sore shoulder anyway.

Aerith's breath was tickling his chest. Then her premonition loomed in again as she sighed.

"I'm gonna miss this…"

End Chapter Six  
>***********************************<p> 


	7. The Way Out is Through

Chapter Seven  
>Goodnight Kiss<br>The Way Out Is Through

It seemed that Tifa hadn't said anything. No one's behavior really changed except for Aerith's. Vincent wasn't sure if anyone else actually noticed the lack of sparkle in her eyes. Of course she kept on smiling. Just like she said she would.

She was sure her death was imminent.

He would have done anything to comfort her, but she hadn't declared their relationship public yet. So he stayed close, but not too close. Tragically, through his inability to confess his love(?), it was still her call as to how they acted around each other. But it was becoming harder and harder to deny that she was the reason he kept leaving his door unlocked and decided not to cut his over-grown hair to a more manageable length.

Aerith had him almost believing that she was going to perish with the way she carried out each action as if it were her last. She spent long bouts of time with everyone—even Cait Sith—on the way to the Temple of the Ancients.

As it turned out, Tseng got what he deserved while Aerith got to say goodbye to him. Strange, but appropriate. Still, he was a pitiable sight; a broken, bloody and hollow man getting ready to die. Tseng was a Turk though. It was better to die on one's feet than to live on one's knees. One of the many sayings in the organization. Vincent wondered if they still held true.

"Do you have a bullet left?" he asked the wounded Turk before he followed Aerith and Cloud through.

Tseng looked up with glassy eyes and licked his cracked lips in an anxious calm. He shook his head. Vincent took an older, less used .45 from his cloak, loaded a single round in and threw it at Tseng's feet.

Tseng managed a small laugh. "You're a good man, Valentine. Reno would've never considered it. There aren't many good Turks left like you…"

"Which is why you keep losing," Vincent replied coldly, turning to follow his comrades.

Vincent didn't hear a gunshot, but then again they were deep within the maze in minutes. Aerith was in a sort of daze. Cloud frequently complained of a brain cramp.

"Oh this is bull… this isn't Tomb Raider, what's the point of all this?" he cried in frustration at one point at a dead end. He sat down and seemed to half pull his hair, half think deeply.

Aerith was busy exploring just down the hall. Keeping her in his peripheral, Vincent leaned against an ivy covered pillar. Unwelcome thoughts buzzed in his ears. What would Cloud think about Aerith turning over her purity to the ex-Turk? He obviously liked her…

"Why do you turn her away?" he asked out of nowhere.

Cloud gave him a look that said, "you're initiating conversations with me?" "I… I dunno," he finally said. "Too much shit right now. Maybe when all this is over. There's always tomorrow…"

She doesn't think so… "Then you are a fool." The words popped out before his carefully calculating mind could censor them. Cloud gave him the strangest look, as if he couldn't figure out for the life of him what Vincent was talking about. And he probably didn't.

Before Vincent could suffer the consequences of his fast tongue and slow brain, there was a scream that had both men on their feet and down the hall in less time to cock a gun or draw a sword.

This battle was more taxing than the preceding bouts. Rolling in to defend the ambushed Cetra, they were surrounded on all sides. Many potions and ethers were blown through in the process. Cloud's sword was knocked right out of his hands, though he was improvising quite nicely with a large piece of plywood with jagged nails sticking out the end of it. Aerith was knocked down hard and was holding her chest, struggling to breathe after the blow. Vincent reached for a potion and found none. His heart clenched when his ammunition failed him two bullets early. He miscounted his shots, how stupid! They couldn't lose now—there was Hojo to destroy… a life ahead with just a glimmer of hope that just maybe Aerith would be a part of it…

He was sure that it was the final blow—the razor sharp claws in the back of his neck. The world blurred, his limbs tingled and his muscles seized. Not again…

And then it was over. Using the last of her magical energies, Aerith eliminated the threat with a desperate plea to Odin—who miraculously answered promptly for less energy than he usually took in return.

Cloud wiped his bloody lip and helped Aerith up, who then tended to Vincent. He hadn't quite transformed but there it was, just beneath the surface. His body still felt strange and weak—adrenalin saturated, exhausted and just short of a strange new demon that whispered obscenities in his ears. "How much farther?" Cloud huffed, trying to stop said bleeding.

"We're close," was all that Aerith could offer.

"Vincent. Potion," Cloud ordered as he usually did after battle.

Vincent turned the bad upside-down to show that they were completely out of supplies almost sarcastically.

"Shit…" He checked his PHS. "No reception in here. ShinRa can desecrate holy ground but they can't build a cell phone tower over it? Figures…"

"It can't be much further now—look at the clock," Aerith pointed out.

Sure enough it was pointed strait ahead to a previously unreachable archway. They crossed the bridge the hands made with surprising ease and into a room full of murals.

"The mosaic room…" Aerith mused.

Vincent wondered if he had missed something while he had spoken with Tseng…

Cloud went pale—as if ice were flowing through his veins and not blood. "Where are you Sephiroth?"

Aerith stiffened and Vincent tensed. He held no supernatural sense for such things like his current party did, but the demon crawling under his skin did, and yanked his eyes to the alter down the narrow hall.

The sight almost made him drop the gun he was carrying. His shock just registered as a brief quiver of disbelief, but the truth was there, sitting in front of him. That face… those eyes… burning like leprosy…

Lucrecia's son. He was living and breathing proof. Vincent had to stop brooding over it now… and accept the reality.

Sephiroth.

"So cold…" were his words when he finally spoke. "I am always by your side…" Vincent wasn't sure who he was addressing; Cloud, himself, both of them or maybe just Aerith. Could he know the beauty of his mother? Could he know that he himself, Vincent Valentine… just might be…? "Splendid!" the murderer approved of their shock. "A treasure trove of knowledge…"

"I don't understand what your saying…" Cloud accused, becoming more and more disoriented. The boy's brain wasn't right around the madman—his gestures were jerky and his eyes were cloudy. Vincent crept between the two ex-SOLDIERS and Aerith. Things were going to get ugly…

"Look well."

"At what?"

"At that which adds to the knowledge of becoming One with the Planet." There was an edge in his words and those calm, glowing eyes—an insane edge he was about to cross. "Soon… we will become One…"

Aerith bit her lip, burning with a question she only half knew the answer to. "How do you become One with the Planet?"

Vincent wasn't listening to the answer. He wasn't sure if he were staring at himself or Hojo in the maddened soul before him. Just who was it that Lucrecia conceived from? And could he—Vincent Valentine—ever bring himself to kill her baby?

"Injure… the Planet?" Aerith repeated from Sephiroth weakly, going pale.

"Behold the mural. The ultimate destruction magic…" Sephiroth looked Vincent right in the eye with his next word, and it sent a chill down his spine. It took a lot to unnerve him, and this was one of those instances. "Meteor."

"That'll never happen!" Cloud shouted as Sephiroth disappeared. What he was referring to—Meteor or some strange enigma boiling in his head—they would never know.

Sephiroth was out to destroy everything. Cloud was freaking out. If he were honest with himself, Vincent saw with his black, selfish little heart that he couldn't care less for the fate of the Planet. Let the world in which he had lost all faith in perish…

But her…

"Cloud!" Aerith was shouting, shaking the boy, who was laughing maniacally about Black Materia. "Get a hold of yourself!"

"Cloud…" he was saying, calming down. He didn't even know himself. What a waste… "I'm … Cloud…"

What sort of spell had Sephiroth put him under? It's not safe here… not without supplies and not without a coherent leader. "Aerith, we should go," Vincent suggested.

And just like that Cloud's mind snapped back into place mid-laugh. "Mm? What's wrong? Is… something wrong?"

He didn't remember. Not the babbling or the kicking or that sheen in his eye that was disturbingly familiar… He was dangerous. He could hurt her…

Just as Aerith opened her mouth to explain, there was a rumble and then an ominous roar.

"Sephiroth?" Cloud asked.

"Hahahaha…" his voice mocked. "It's not me…"

The largest monster they'd seen yet angrily burst through the archway from where they came, spitting fire and smoke with furious cries of war and sacrilege.

Knowing a hopeless fight when he saw one, Vincent's trained eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. Cloud swung away with that enormous nail-bat of his before any plan of action could be formed. No supplies, low on magic, low on energy, no more ammunition… no escape!

Vincent pushed Aerith out of the way without thinking and took a deathblow right in the head. His knees gave out and failed completely on him. Anger… darkness…

I will bring death upon those you could not…!

The demon sprang forth, and Vincent's recollection of the event ended there.

***

It started with a tingling in his limbs as warmth flooded back into him. He sat up and held his head as a familiar sensation brought him back to his senses. Materia…

"Thank goodness you're okay!" Aerith cried, throwing her arms around him. Vincent wanted to kiss her but tensed. The others were present. They were just outside the temple, which looked like it was slowly enfolding into itself.

"That was SO COOL Vinnie!" Yuffie was gushing. "We saw, like, the last half of that battle and you kicked so much ASS! You HAVE to teach me how to do that!"

"Do you EVER shut up, brat?" Cid asked her, cigarette hanging off his rough lips.

"Old fart! Mind your own business!" she shot back.

"What happened?" Vincent asked, standing without Aerith's help. Oh how he wanted to sweep her off her feet, so grateful that they were both alive. But though her hand lingered, she didn't initiate. Her call… always her call…

"You don't remember?" she asked.

"After the dragon was defeated you fell unconscious," Red XIII explained. "The temple itself is the Black Materia, and the only way to extract it is to sacrifice oneself to solve the puzzles from the inside; to be crushed to death."

"What…? Is Cloud in there?" Vincent asked dubiously. Not like he cared much for Cloud, but it would be stupid for their leader to throw his life away like that…

Cloud came around the corner. "Reeve's Cait Sith is. It's the least he can do after all the shit he put us through." The temple was now condensed enough to fit in the palm of one's hand. Even from the top edge of the former site it emitted a dark aura. "Perfect," Cloud approved, climbing down to retrieve it.

"Does anyone else get a bad feeling about this?" Tifa asked nervously.

Yes, actually, Vincent did. The new demon that identified itself as Hellmasker was still dangerously close to the edge of his consciousness. Something about that last battle had it hovering just below his awareness. It was almost as if he could will it forward if he wished. It whispered omens of betrayal, manipulation… and death.

Sure enough as soon as Cloud had the new Materia in his hands, none other than Sephiroth appeared in a whirl of dark energy.

"Cloud!" half of AVALANCHE called in alarm.

Vincent reached for his gun on reflex. No ammo. Aerith was starting her way down the crumbled edges, for fear of Cloud or the Black Materia he didn't know. AVALANCHE fanned out, also starting their decent so Cloud wouldn't have to fight alone. But Cloud wasn't fighting.

Not in a physical sense anyway. It was obvious he was struggling, but somehow Sephiroth made him turn over the Black Materia they had labored so hard to protect.

"Good boy," Sephiroth approved.

Aerith was the first to reach the bottom. "Cloud, what are you doing?"

She was responded with by a fist in her face, knocking her against the wall. Vincent's stomach flipped.

"What are you making me do?" Cloud cried in horror and frustration, just as he laid another blow upon the helpless Cetra.

Vincent's anger got the best of him. Hellmasker laughed quietly in agreement. It took over because Vincent let it. Hellmasker threw itself to the bottom, landing hard but unharmed before anyone could safely jump. It tore into Cloud savagely.

Get off of her! You have no right!; she's MINE! You broke her heart! She chose me! And now you'll SUFFER for your actions, just as Hojo will suffer!

"Vincent! He didn't mean it! Vincent!"

"VINCENT!"

"Whoa! What's going on?"

"Vince, what the FUCK?"

"Vinnie, don't!"

"Pull 'im off! Get 'im offa the kid!"

"Vincent I'm sorry… … …"

End Chapter Seven

Since this story directly involves Aerith, it's hard to leave out points that involve her, so I tossed a bit of script in. Yeah, true story about the Temple—I stumbled through there once stupidly without an item in the world and had a hell of a time getting out (in that case I missed the feature of save points in FFX…). Getting on to the end as some of you might have guessed, and that makes me sad ;_; But oh well, plot goes on…


	8. No Tears, No Sympathy

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Eight<br>No Tears; No Sympathy

"How is he?"

"Cure helped, but he's still out. Vincent hurt him pretty bad…"

"Yeah, but Cloud could have killed you if he hadn't changed when he did. Who knows what Sephiroth would have made him do!"

"This is my fault…"

"Don't say that Aerith. Neither of them could have controlled their actions."

"…Thanks Red. Thanks Tif."

"Still, I wonder why or how Vincent was the first on the scene. His silence makes me question his loyalty sometimes."

An uncomfortable silence. Tifa cleared her throat. Why she chose to say nothing was a mystery to Vincent… what had she and Aerith gossiped about in his absence? What did Tifa think about him contaminating the most beloved of their party?

Vincent finally pulled himself to the surface of consciousness from a deep sleep, then to awareness and the ability to open his eyes. They had been talking about him. Aerith, Tifa and the unmistakable growl of Red XIII. Where were they? It was dark out, with a purplish twilight fog hanging about the window. Fresh rain… gravel… Mako…

Gongaga, he concluded as the door swung open.

Aerith's arms slipped into place and the memories came back. Cloud's screaming face, arms and weapons yanking the demon away… blood… She should be furious with him… they all should be. And yet here she was, stealing comfort from a secret embrace and letting him feel the softness of her hair and skin.

"I didn't intend—"

"I know."

"The others—"

"Forgive you. I would be dead if it weren't for you. It would have been too soon…" Aerith assured, breathing in Vincent's scent deeply. Vincent pulled her out of his chest and to his face, treasuring just the tip of their noses making contact. A black eye. A scabbed and swollen lip. Bruises. His blood boiled, but it wasn't Cloud he should be hating. But to hate Lucrecia's baby…? "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you," Aerith said quietly after a moment.

Leave?

"So… so I want you not to be mad at Cloud. And tell Tifa I'm sorry—"

"Where are you going?" Vincent interrupted.

Aerith thought about this. "I'm not sure. I know where about it is… and what it looks like… but I've never been there. I feel it. I… I think I'm going to the Promised Land."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"No."

Aerith smiled at his refusal. "You'll understand someday. But I'm not leaving you. So… don't be sad, alright?"

"Stop it," Vincent ordered firmly. "I won't let you. Not alone."

"Please, Vincent. I need to go before Cloud wakes up, or I'll miss my chance," Aerith pleaded. She squeezed the hand that was clenching her dress, holding her back. "Please let go."

I can't… Vincent shook his head, wondering how to at least get her to take somebody with her without truly forcing the issue upon her. At least delay her long enough so there would be time for Tifa or Cloud to pick up on her plans to abandon them.

"Please don't make this harder than it already is…" Aerith whispered. An overwhelming urge overtook Vincent, and though he hesitated to act on it, it proved delicious. With women, it was hard for him to exert dominance for fear of hurting them or scaring them away. Especially now, with Aerith. But he devoured her lips anyway, a clench forming in his stomach for not asking in some form first.

He underestimated himself and his influence. She melted as fast as he usually did for her, a captive to his lustful onslaught. A new fire spread throughout him with this uneasy and exhilarating control. Uneasy but ecstatically erotic. He threw her back onto the bed face down and threw her dress up. He prayed she wouldn't ask him to stop—his hard on was throbbing but he couldn't deny Aerith much, even at his own expense.

She didn't. She couldn't as Vincent snaked his way into her crevice with his tongue. Her whole body was shaking—never had Vincent been so fierce and the result was raw excitement. Unable to see his next move, she only clenched the sheets and pillows before her, muffling her cries of elation.

Vincent—completely consumed by the fury of his desire—penetrated quickly and savagely. It was animalistic fucking, not even close to the tame lovemaking he had grown to drag himself through each day for. No restraint and no tenderness backed each thrust and only encouragement was met by Aerith, who seemed to enjoy being dominated even more than Vincent's unsteady but blooming desire to dominate.

He pushed as deep as he could inside of her then pulled out of her soaking sex to catch his breath, resting his erection just outside the entrance of her ass. She made a meek gasp, as if she were expecting something more. Vincent only took a moment to consider and internally shrugged. They'd gone this far, and he would do anything to keep her here, in this bed with him for as long as he possibly could.

He pushed the head in ever so slightly, to meet a fierce resistance… or maybe she was just so damn tight. He reached around to press her clitoris firmly to show that this was just as much for her as it was for him. "Relax," he ordered smoothly—the calm was unusual, but not questionable at the moment. She did not tell him no. She did not squirm away. In fact the mere prospect of him taking her most private orphus seemed to make her wetter still. With a quiver and a mere twitch Vincent's hand was sticky with her eagerness. Relaxation came instantly.

He slowly impaled, taking her breath as cues for when to stop and when to push ahead. She was so tight and all she did was come repeatedly as he embedded himself firmly in her virgin passage. As soon as he started to cause friction it was obvious that though it was sending ripples of pleasure through him, Aerith was in pain. To distract her from this he started to stimulate once again, rubbing all of her desire deep into that sensitive little nub sitting neatly under the ever-so-barely-there hair. Pain forgotten, she moved in concert with his ministrations, wresting a moan from him as she cried out in pleasure. She was shaking in her lust and it was causing her to clamp down on his hard on, so deep and sweetly frictional in her tight little hole…the pleasure was building to a point where it was almost unbearable… it was so good, so good…!

Vincent let a curse slip through his lips as the fire inside of him went off without his consent, cradling Aerith back to the bed in her tingling orgasm. They stayed for a moment, and as Vincent admitted himself back to reality, he hoped that Aerith had simply been swept off to sleep as she came. Alas, she stirred, rolled and smiled sadly. Adjusting himself, Vincent merely sat back and idly rubbed her toes with his thumb. Was it enough to convince her not to leave? If it wasn't, did he stall her long enough?

She was still crying, but no longer from the carnal pleasure that he had inflicted upon her. Vincent squeezed her foot to inquire. "This is goodbye…"

"No," he told her again, getting up to fetch his cloak. If she was going to pull a crazy stunt, he'd be damned if he'd let her do it alone.

"Vincent, you can't—"

"I will."

"I won't let you!"

"Stop me," he challenged, blocking the door with his claw. Damn you for loving her, you fool! How he wished he didn't need her or felt that awful pit widen in his heart at the thought of separation.

Aerith's lip sort of jutted out in stubbornness, heartbreak in her eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, whipping a green Materia orb out of nowhere. Too slow… Stars flashed in from of his eyes and a fog swept over his vision. His knees buckled and he desperately reached for Aerith, trying to stop her though he couldn't through the cloud of sleep overcoming him.

She leaned over him, cradling him close as she cried. "I wish we could…" her distant voice whispered. Then the floor swallowed Vincent in the thrall of Materia induced slumber.

He was chasing after a pink ribbon that he just couldn't catch. There were people—dozens or hundreds of people, all with faces he knew, moving, dancing, talking, and shouting… It was a moment before he realized that there was music blaring. It was so loud he could feel the vibration in his teeth. A rave. Like the ones he went to as a teen, deluded with the illusion of knowing everything. The song was eerily akin to him, a purposeful element in this sweet slumber she had inflicted, he was sure.

I asked myself, was I content  
>With the world that I once cherished?<br>Did it bring me to this darkened place  
>To contemplate<br>My perfect future…?

"Aerith!" Vincent shouted over the noise, weaving through the stubborn mass of clubbers. Blue suit, short hair… why was he here as a Turk? "Aerith, you have to tell me!"

I'm so sorry if these seething words I say  
>Impress on you<br>That I've become anathema of my soul…!

"Tell you what?"

Vincent whipped around, but only saw her in his peripheral—a flash of pink in the thrall. He started to push and shove people away. "Tell me why, Aerith! Why would you sacrifice yourself to a world that has given you nothing in return!"

I can't say that you're losing me  
>I always tried to keep myself tied to this world<br>But I know where this is leading  
>No tears<br>No sympathy…

At last he caught up to her, and in a sea of dancing bodies he embraced her, shielding her from all that was unclean about himself—his life, his past and his sins. "Why would you do that to yourself; why would you do that to me?"

Gracefully; Respectfully  
>I ask you, please don't worry, not for me<br>Don't turn your back  
>Don't turn away…!<p>

"Answer me!"

Aerith smiled one last time. "For you. For everyone."

Please, no tears  
>No sympathy…<p>

"I would never ask you to do such a thing!"

"I know."

No tears for me…  
>No sympathy…<p>

Vincent started awake, music still echoing in his ears. He shielded his eyes from the dawn and shook his hair from his face. He rose from the floor, feeling hollow once more.

She was gone.

End of Chapter Seven

*/cries oh man, we all know what happens next… I can't bear to write it! ^hides^ one last chapter and an epilogue of course… or maybe more, I haven't decided ^contemplates a sequel about poor Vince…^ we'll see how summer semester goes…I LIVE OFF OF YOUR REVIEWS! WOOO LEAVE EM!*


	9. Bleed

&&Recommended listening: Advent Children: "The Promised Land," FF7: "Those Chosen by the Planet," Dream Theater: "Space Dye Vest," and of course, FF7: "Aerith's Theme" &&

#########OKAY, IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED THROUGH DISC ONE OF FF7, PLEASE STOP HERE! This will be a HUGE spoiler for you! Granted, if you don't already know what happens, I giggle at you and shake my head (PLAY the godamned game!), but it's only fair to give warning. BIG. SPOILER. ALERT########

Goodnight Kiss  
>Chapter Nine<br>Bleed

Cloud didn't hide the concern on his face as they rushed through the Forgotten Capitol of Ajit. He didn't question why Vincent insisted he come along in his imposing silence, or care for that matter. There was no question about Tifa joining them either, her eyebrows knit with worry. It was expected for her at least, somehow becoming the most obvious best friend of Aerith as of late.

Cloud seemed to know the way, as if a piece of him had already walked the path before. They traveled for sixteen hours strait through a sleeping but dangerous forest and into an ancient, abandoned city full of mournful plants and broken conch dwellings, where exhaustion forced them to stop.

It was all Vincent could do to keep himself from pacing. He had no need for sleep, and he doubted anyone had better than fitful slumber at best anyway. Through the openings of one shabby shelter he spied a cigarette ember. The best they were doing were resting their aching muscles from such a long journey by foot. He was growing impatient as the three-hour mark ticked by.

His trained ears heard someone making sudden, clumsy movements about then. Scrambling… then Cloud pounced out of his chosen dwelling, half dressed and almost completely equipped, looking alarmed. He was struggling to get himself situated as quickly as he could while rushing out into the night.

"What is it?" a half-groggy Tifa inquired, following the flustered ex-SOLDIER out into the night.

"He's here."

There was no doubt in his voice, and only raw fear for his dear friend at the very least shining off of his sharp Mako eyes. Sephiroth was here. Vincent's cold heart skipped a dark beat. Her vision. It was coming true. Lucrecia's son would be here for a single intent, and one alone. It only took a moment to load his rifle—a heavy .12 gauge, ready to blow the head off of anyone stupid enough to put any part of Vincent Valentine on the line. A pivotal sort of erred logic of course, but it didn't take long to decide who he'd rather have dead.

They rushed into the city, fending off dozens of monsters that Sephiroth had attracted in his wake. Vincent and Tifa fell behind while Cloud managed to squeeze ahead into an intact and strangely alive conch shell house in the center of the dead metropolis, pale and rank with loneliness from the moonlight, save the horrors crawling out from every dark corner possible. Vincent battered his way there, impatient to follow.

A spiral staircase. A glittering pool. A marble alter. There she was, kneeled in graceful prayer to an unknown force or deity. She was an angel among high heaven, seeking the salvation of the people she loved, the people she hated (though Vincent doubted she had much of a capability towards hate…) and people she didn't even know in quiet solace upon this alter of isolation. Cloud was clutching his sword in agony before her, fighting a nameless but familiar command. He swung at her precious head…

"CLOUD!" Vincent roared, bolting forward. He hadn't raised his voice since before his reentry into the world, and it felt strange, but there was no time for new and old experiences to clash. He had the safety off in a hair of a second, getting ready to shoot Cloud in the head too, if he had to.

Cloud jerked away, shaking. "What are you making me do?"

A shadow from above…

Vincent could never forget what happened next. It would be forever burned into his soul just as Lucrecia's death had been. A brand of pain, loss and eternal sorrow.

It was Sephiroth. He did a swan dive from the shell houses above, performed a graceful somersault and plunged towards Aerith, masamune poised to murder. Vincent took aim on reflex and fired.

And then…

For the first time in his life…

Vincent Valentine missed his target.

Sephiroth slaughtered Aerith perfectly; morbidly; horribly. The blade cut into her heart and she froze, pain burning in her eyes, her last breath parting her lips ever so slightly, and her hands dropped to her sides as they went cold. There wasn't even that much blood, he had done it so cleanly… so inhumanly.

Vincent was as frozen to the spot as Cloud was. Tifa had fallen to her knees, covering her mouth in horror. Sephiroth yanked the blade out unmercifully, kicking Aerith's body off of it as if it were mere garbage filthying his weapon.

"AERITH!" Cloud screamed, rushing forward to catch her lifeless corpse. He broke the spell. Vincent finally remembered to take a breath despite the crushing pressure in his chest. Tifa began to sob. Death… she already smelled of death. "This… this can't be real!"

Sephiroth's oath of the Promised Land meant nothing to Vincent. His body mirrored Cloud's wailing—his fingers were tingling, his mouth was dry, his eyes were burning! Aerith had been the only one that could see through the monster that he was and into the man that he still might have been… and she too had been ripped away.. just like Lucrecia, under the assumption that it was of her own will.

Vincent barely noticed that Sephiroth had manifested Jenova and fled. "I know what lies beyond the snowfields…" he had comforted coldly. Cloud poured his hate and hurt into a furious attack. Tifa had scrambled to her feet, letting out a similar cry of fury as she snapped her arm back to deliver a bone-shattering blow to the abomination with her fist.

Vincent stood over Aerith's body, bound to the spot. Her hair was splayed everywhere because her ribbon had been ripped loose. Blood was beginning to soak her dress and spill down the stairs. She was cold. A sweet embrace and a whisper of comfort she could provide no longer. And he… he could do nothing. A new emptiness consumed him… a new voice of malice … a new demon…

The tingle in his fingers grew into a throbbing numb which spread quickly throughout his nervous system. There was a sharp seize in his muscles and senses, then he lost all motor control. Vincent fell backwards, towards the Lifestream rich lake beneath them and allowed the voice of violence, anger and hatred consume him.

_I demand a sacrifice…!_

A vague pain and tearing sensation… it was all a blur of loss and hurt and resentment…

Red wings snapped open before Vincent could hit the water, a new killer crawling out from beneath his skin. The water rippled in protest beneath him and sprayed its discontent at being disturbed as Vincent shot upwards, Vincent no longer.

Chaos howled a sinister death warrant and sunk its teeth and claws into disgustingly familiar alien flesh. Jenova reeled as Chaos tore a limb clear off, black blood oozing from the tainted wound.

Tifa backed off immediately, and Cloud was forced to as well after Chaos showed no distinguishing care between friend and foe. It wasn't long before Jenova was squirming pieces that were unable to regenerate.

"Vincent…" Tifa pleaded at him, begging him to stop this terrible massacre. It was over. There was no need anymore. The demon's glare snapped up to her sad, muscular figure. Abandoning its unfulfilling meal, it clawed its way to the martial artist, eager for real and warm blood.

_It's okay… _Tifa was thinking as she stubbornly planted her feet, looking at her bruised and dirty knees as she cradled a wound on her other arm tighter to her body. _If blood is what you need to fill that emptiness that she left… then take me_. She looked up at the onslaught bravely with sorrowful, bloodshot brown eyes and a dirty, tear-stained face. "If it would ease our pain just a little…" she whispered.

"Tifa!" Cloud cried out in warning.

Chaos clawed out for a deathblow, but melted away back into Vincent a spit second before it could be dealt. He hit the floor hard at her feet, collapsing into a pile of tattered red, blood and the barest hint of tears. The trauma made him shudder visibly, so unsure he was… was it a dream…? Was it a nightmare and would he wake up in his coffin for the millionth time, reaching out for a love he could just never have… for a girl in pink that he had just dreamed up in his longing for Lucrecia? Was it a true void, or was it exhaustion that filled his soul?

_Too much sleep… not enough hate… I shall return…_ the demon whispered.

"Vincent…" Tifa whispered in a hurt but jaded shock.

"She's gone…" he choked almost inaudibly into a cold puddle of tainted Lifestream and blood on the marble stairs. "She's gone…"

End Chapter Nine  
>****************************************<p> 


	10. Epilogue

&&Recommended listening: "Silent Mourning," Angel Sanctuary; "Fake Wings," Yuki Kajiura; "My December," Linkin Park and "It's Been a While," Staind&&

Goodnight Kiss  
>Epilogue<p>

Vincent spent a long time staring at the ripples on the surface of Aerith's grave. He selected a secluded little overhang and contemplated agonizingly in solitude, his mind falling into that numbing cycle that he had grown so used to in his coffin so long ago it seemed… safe from hurt and any more sin.

She's gone.

Yet another heavy sin to weigh upon his heart. The vacuum Aerith left was filled with all the pain she had pushed aside with those few blessed weeks that she had graced his presence with. All too familiar… but this time he was free to react as he chose, no longer a captive to Hojo's sick games. Pain in liberty was such a strange sensation, that he wasn't sure what to do. Grieving had never been an option.

"Found you…"

Vincent glanced around and was mildly surprised to find Tifa standing a few feet below on a rock and shell outcropping. For a moment, he had forgotten that anything else in the known universe existed but the void inside of him. How selfish of him. Tifa reminded him that the real world moves on, regardless of his miniscule presence.

Each AVALANCHE member had retreated to mourn in his or her own unique way. He could hear Yuffie bawling and wailing from a long ways off, burying her face into a very subdued Red XIII's furry, crimson flank. Cid was unnaturally quiet, smoking cigarette after cigarette. Barret had taken to pacing, muttering obscenities under his breath. Cait Sith-the new model that Reeve had sent-had powered down, a strange remorseful expression plastered across the cat's face. Cloud was off by himself, holding back the tears of an unfulfilled hope. And Tifa…

She looked awkwardly at her muddy shoes and sniffed back tears in her nose as she bit her lip. "I'm… not so sure exactly what went on between you two…" she began. "I don't even think she knew… but…"

Her words faltered as her exhausted eyes filled with tears again. Vincent waited patiently for her to regain her composure, wiping away any tears that spilled over her sore, reddened cheeks. She stifled a sob and a hiccup, and then attempted to continue.

"She loved you!" Tifa blurted. "She wouldn't say it out loud, but she did! She was afraid to announce it, Vincent, because I swear to god she KNEW she was going to die! I felt so horrible because I thought she was really into Cloud and… and for a while I thought I was going to lose him! But then you came along, and Cloud started to act weird… and I … don't even know what I'm trying to say!"

Tifa trembled as she held back her grief and pursed her lips, waiting for a reaction. Vincent did not oblige her with one. It had been so long since he had to deal with an outburst of any kind a sort of jaded speechlessness overcame him. And what, pray tell, was he supposed to do with another's pain, when his was so great that only a sense of honor and bloody justice could keep him on his feet? Barely…

"SAY SOMETHING!" Tifa suddenly screamed in a quavering voice. She timidly hesitated, sucked in a shocked breath at herself, then she tensed again. "ANYTHING!"

There was an uncomfortable silence between them, and at last Vincent spoke. Quietly, sternly, but he spoke.

"Drifting."

"…Wh… what?"

"Drifting," he repeated, looking up with an unreadable expression. "She told us that a lot. Every single one of us. No one can deny that it made little sense." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "She wouldn't want us to mourn this way. To drift away and loose ourselves to damnation would be folly. There is much to be done, atoning or otherwise-for Aerith's sake at the very least. For Lucrecia's sake. So we mustn't delay in our sorrow." His voice became firmer. "Yes. She knew. So no tears. No sympathy."

Tifa looked a little shocked, as if she couldn't believe that she was actually witnessing words come from his mouth. Maybe she wasn't expecting an answer…?

"How can you say that?"

Tifa threw herself into Vincent's chest, which startled him into inaction as he stiffened in discomfort. Tifa sobbed into his bosom fiercely, for reasons he couldn't guess. Cloud-object of opposition once again in a female retrospect-was perhaps too defeated for her tears right now. But by no means was he interested in tainting another woman at her own expense. No, she would be turned away if she offered, as women in their weak moments often do. Surely she must have guessed at a deeper emptiness within himself? Or perhaps that was the very reason she came…?

It was a familiar sort of embrace, but different. This was Tifa. She smelled different and has calluses with harder muscles and a meaner grip. He relaxed after a moment, then awkwardly rested his hand on her arm. A friend's embrace-something that had always been far out of reach for him. Turks had no friends. They had allies.

Turks don't have their hearts broken either. Twice, no less…

"I'm sorry…" Tifa gasped after a few moments. "I know I don't know you very well… I didn't think you'd talk to me at all…"

True… These were the first real words that they had exchanged beyond mere acknowledgment. The only genuine conversations he'd had were with Aerith. A few sentences had been exchanged with Cid… perhaps Red XIII. But if written out, he was sure his total interaction with the living members of AVALANCHE couldn't equal a paragraph.

"Am I truly so mysterious that one would turn to me for a sick sort of comfort?" he asked.

Tifa sat back, letting her hands linger on his flesh hand. Unlike Aerith, she avoided his claw-through offense or uncertainty he wasn't sure. "We share a secret, Vincent," she told him, looking him right in the eye for the very first time. There was an unsettling strength there. "It's up to you whether or not you want to reveal it, and I don't care if you want my friendship or not. There's a connection. Acknowledge it."

Vincent-practical man that he was-interpreted this as a strict yes or no answer. He wondered if she knew what kind of spot she had put him in. Refuse the friendship and expose the affair, or keep quiet and accept the companionship. Neither was comfortable, and he wondered what Aerith would have preferred.

Do what feels right…

He looked sullenly to the pool again, playing with moonlight as if death were no stigma and pain were not staple of the soul. "What do real friends do?" he asked, in no particular direction.

"Have care and respect for each other," Tifa replied softly, as if she were measuring the friends that she had under her own true definition of the concept. From the look on her face, Vincent fancied that it couldn't be many that were allowed too far past her battle-hardened shell.

"Mm," Vincent said in neither agreement nor disagreement, not sure what else to say. If she desired a mutual care and respect, she would most certainly have to initiate. Undead, demon, Turk or fool, Vincent was still a man, and would not admit to inexperience in something so simple. He tried to remember a time when innocence barred such implications, but fifty years was a long time, as he could barely remember his own mother's face anymore.

"Now we both have something to strive for," Tifa told him. "Revenge must be a tough thing to bear…"

Vincent squinted, wondering how much information was circulating around about him. "So is love," he shot back. Bullseye. She looked down, searching for something to fix her eyes on uneasily.

"Well you're one to talk!"

Vincent chose to ignore her half-defensive teasing. "Can I trust you, Tifa?" he interrupted, choosing to be serious in the matter.

Tifa's eyebrows arched in surprise, then she smiled brokenly. "If I can trust you."

Vincent nodded. Yes, Aerith's tryst with him should remain a secret. And if putting up with something as trivially profound as friendship was the price, he was willing to pay it. Aerith would say it would be good for him anyway, in that glib voice of hers, while running her fingers through his hair. He would keep it long. In honor of her memory.

He was a good judge of people however, and it looked like Tifa wasn't going to let him fake it once she recovered from the shock of death. It might take a while, but he was sure she would return to herself within a week or so. As for him…

There would be vengeance of course. Sweet bloody vengeance… but there was a whisper in his ear that wasn't a lurking shadow under his cloak; the voice of reason, warning him against blind and senseless anger. The kind that almost killed Tifa not a few hours ago. It was her voice, he reckoned, but there was no way to be sure. There was a strange calm in his chest, and he held onto it like he would never have peace again. From what he could tell, he might not.

"When you're ready to let it go… let me know, okay?"

Vincent gave Tifa a quirked eyebrow. "What?"

"I didn't say anything," she replied, quite innocently. She had been trying to see what he had been blankly staring at, and probably knowing that it was nothing in this plane of existence.

"Hm." He pulled his face deeper into his hair and cloak to try and hide the blush of humiliating hurt in his face. It would be long time before he could let Lucrecia go, and even longer to see the pain Aerith's memory produced dull. He doubted Tifa's role in healing, but he got the feeling that Aerith had somehow asked her to lure him out in her absence.

"Hey…"

Tifa and Vincent looked up to see Cid, grim and pale, stinking of nicotine and looking a little surprised. "Was I interruptin'?"

"No," Tifa told him, standing up. "What is it?"

"Cloud wants to move out. I think he's in speech mode though, so don't count on it bein' any fucking time soon." He half chuckled at his own joke, but no one was laughing and it hurt to smile. He cleared his throat and spit, then lit a new cigarette. "Come on, assholes," he mumbled as he stalked off.

Tifa looked across the lake to where Cloud was sullenly waiting, almost longingly. Vincent was glad she was in love with someone else, and deeply. God knows what forces were at work to thrust him into women's ways. But even Vincent was humble enough to realize how much he had to learn. He had just gotten used to the ache of Aerith, and now there was a great confusion over grief and acceptance. At least with things that were so personally close that he had no choice but to deal with them. He normally would have backed away and chosen not to let things get that close… but there were things that needed to be followed through before he could know a real calm on his tormented soul.

There was still a secret to be kept. There was still a story to be told.

End Goodnight Kiss  
>********************************************<p> 


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